Storm and the Silver Bridle (20 page)

At the back of the field, though, Issie was about to try and do exactly that. As soon as she’d come up with her plan she’d known she would have to win this race from the back, and not from the start. She had never been
expecting to lead the pack. Instead, she’d known she would have to hold Angel and wait until Storm was safe, until the right moment to strike. And she knew she could do it. She had faith in the enormous speed of the horse she was riding.

“OK, Angel.” She leaned down low on the grey stallion’s neck and finally released the reins that she had been gripping so tightly since the race began. “Time to go, boy.”

Angel, who had been leaning on Issie’s hands, desperate to free himself since the very start of the race, responded instantly. He surged forward, his stride lengthening, making up the distance between himself and the horses at the very back of the tight-knit pack within just a few lengths.

The horses ahead of her all slowed down as they reached the treacherous corner turn, and Issie did the same, slowing Angel back just enough to make it around without skidding. She didn’t want to risk sliding her horse into the crowds and the café tables that lined the streets of the square. As soon as she was back on the straight, though, she sped up again, asking Angel gallop harder. By the time they came around to the last corner of the second lap, Angel had caught up to the other
stragglers. There were four riders grouped together at the rear in front of Issie. They were riding together in a tight knot, blocking Issie’s path so that she couldn’t get through. Angel had to slow down, settling in behind the pack for a moment as Issie decided on her next move. The safest thing to do would be to ride wide on the track, to go to the outside of the horses and ride around them. But Issie wasn’t interested in the safest route, she was interested in the fastest. She pulled hard on the stallion’s right rein and guided him to the inside, towards the small gap near the metal rails. She was going to pass through the gap, squeezing inside of the horses who were running ahead of them. She didn’t have the luxury of time. The inside track was fastest and they would simply have to fight their way to get through.

“What is she trying to do?” Francoise screamed from the sidelines now. “She is riding through the other riders, she will get herself killed.”

“No, she won’t!” Avery yelled over the noise of the crowd. “She’s making her move now, she knows what she’s doing!”

As Angel made a dive for the gap, Issie looked to her left and saw the jockey on the horse beside her give her a filthy look. He wasn’t about to be overtaken by a girl!
He had ridden the Silver Bridle before and he knew there were no rules in this race. He lifted his stick, ready to strike out at her, but before he could swing his blow Issie had ducked out of the way, bending down even lower in the saddle to sweep past as she clucked Angel on, kicking the grey stallion lightly with her heels to ask for more speed. The other jockey was left open-mouthed in her wake.

“Did you see that?” Francoise squeaked. “She is too small and quick. They cannot lay a hand on her. She is beating them at their own game!”

Now the grey stallion put on a surge of speed, his powerful haunches beginning to come into play, working to propel him to even greater strides. He raced past the next two horses as if they weren’t even there, ducking and weaving his way through the field as Issie guided him on fearlessly. They were halfway through the horses now, in sixth place, as they approached the line for the third lap.

As they crossed the line for the third and final lap, Issie saw they were coming up towards a treacherous corner again. Angel was in full gallop and going far too fast to make it safely around the bend. Issie had to ignore the pain in her fingers and pull back on the reins with all
her strength, fighting to get the stallion back under control and slow him down. She lost a little ground, but she knew it was the right thing to do, they had to make it safely round the corner.

Then disaster struck right in front of her. A rider had kept his mount going at full gallop, taking a risk that he would still somehow make it round the corner. He hadn’t. His horse skidded into the pavement, knocking chairs and tables aside, and the crowd began to scatter to get out of the way. There was screaming and shouting as the horse crashed through a hawker’s stall, trying to regain its footing. The horse’s hooves scrabbled across the cobbled pavements and the jockey was flung out of the saddle and crashed to the ground.

Before anyone could help him, a second horse skidded at the same corner, also going far too fast, and got tangled in the fray.

The crowd immediately gathered around the horses and riders, trying to help them back to their feet. The horses were both standing up, their flanks heaving, the whites of their eyes rolling back from the fright. They were unharmed, but the crash meant they were well and truly out of the race.

“Get off the track!” Issie yelled as she galloped straight for them. She was still in this race and the
people who were trying to help were now blocking her path!

“Out of the way!
Vamos!”
she shouted. The crowds scattered off the street just in time as she turned the corner with expert precision and raced on past. With these two horses eliminated there were only another two riders left standing between her and Vega. She was bearing down on them fast, and had tightened the gap. Less than four lengths separated her from the leader now.

Stride by stride, Angel was gaining on the other horses. As they came around the last corner of the third lap, heading into the final stretch, Issie knew it was time. She began to ride Angel like a race jockey, just as Avery had shown her, urging the horse on with her hands, talking constantly to the great, grey stallion, asking him to give her more. Angel was listening to her — he stretched out even further, sweeping over the ground with huge strides. He passed the other two horses in front of him as if they were standing still. Now, as they came into the final stretch, there was only Vega between them and the finish line.

“She will never take him. Victorioso is too fast and Vega is too clever to be beaten in the home straight,” Francoise said.

Avery shook his head. “Issie can take him,” he said. “Just watch her.”

Out on the track, Issie was riding for all she was worth. Her head was tucked down low over Angel’s neck as she kept talking to the grey stallion, asking him for more, asking him to edge up, stride by stride, chipping away at the gigantic black horse’s lead. She knew Angel had the speed in him to take Victorioso. More than that, she knew the grey stallion had the courage, the will, to beat Miguel Vega.

As Angel began to pull up alongside Victorioso, Issie saw surprise on Vega’s face. He hadn’t been expecting this. And he hadn’t been expecting what happened next.

The two horses, Victorioso and Angel, were neck and neck. The two great stallions were racing stride for stride so that Issie and Vega were alongside each other. Vega saw his chance. If this girl was foolish enough to come near him, he was going to make her suffer for it. He lifted one meaty paw from Victorioso’s reins, and reached out his arm towards Issie to strike her.

He didn’t get the chance. He didn’t realise this too was part of Issie’s plan. She had been anticipating this moment. In fact, she had been counting on it. She held Angel so that he was racing right next to Victorioso and the grey stallion got a real good look at Vega riding next to him.

At the sight of his enemy, Angel gave a snort of indignation and surged forward in a fresh burst of unmatchable speed that took him ahead of the black stallion. In two lightning strides Angel was out in front of Victorioso, leaving Vega in the dust behind him impotently shaking his fist as Issie catapulted into the lead.

All around them the crowd erupted in wild cheers and shouts, and flowers flew through the air as Issie and Angel passed the fountain for the third and final time and crossed the finish line. They had won.

Two days after the Silver Bridle had been won, Issie faced yet another test.

As she stood in front of a line of the most beautiful horses she had ever seen she really didn’t know if she could do it. They were all so stunning! How could she possibly choose one?

“Hurry up, girl!” A voice from behind her snapped angrily. Issie turned round to see Miguel Vega, dabbing furiously with his hanky at his chubby face as the beads of sweat trickled from beneath his
vaquero
hat.

“Don’t rush me!” Issie grinned back at him. She stepped forward and walked down the row of horses until she reached a grey colt. He was a three-year-old Andalusian, with strong conformation, a well-shaped neck and a perfectly dished nose.

Issie looked back at Roberto. “What do you think?”

Roberto nodded. “An excellent choice, Isadora. This young stallion is the son of Victorioso, and his dam is one of Vega’s favourite mares. I have long admired this horse and would love to have him in my stables.” He smiled. “However, it is your decision.”

Issie smiled back at Roberto, and then she reached out a hand and stroked the grey stallion on his pretty dished nose.

“We’ll take this one!” she said.

Vega reluctantly signalled his men to lead the stallion away with the others.

“He’s hating every moment of this,” Avery muttered to Issie with a grin.

“Good!” Issie giggled back.

Vega had been forced to stand there this morning and watch helplessly as Issie, Roberto, Alfie and Francoise each picked a horse from his magnificent herd to take away with them back to El Caballo Danza Magnifico.

Since Issie had won the race for the Silver Bridle, she, along with Roberto, Alfie, Avery and Francoise, had been working her way around the eleven rival haciendas. At every stud farm, they had chosen five of the best horses to take as their prize. Vega’s was the last of the
eleven haciendas, and now that it was his turn to endure the claiming of the spoils of the Silver Bridle he wasn’t liking the process one bit.

“Come on!” he snapped. “You have one left to choose. Make it quick. I do not wish to stand here all day!”

Roberto turned to face Vega now and his smile faded.

“We will not be choosing a fifth horse from you, Miguel.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Roberto said. “We have chosen four of your horses today. The fifth horse is the colt that we already have back at our stables.”

Vega looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t understand.”

“Nightstorm is Isadora’s colt and you know it. We know you stole him from her. He was never yours to own in the first place. But, as a sign of goodwill, we are willing to let him count for your stables as one of the five horses you owe us.”

Vega smiled at this. It seemed like a good deal as far as he was concerned. He had been furious when he had arrived home after losing the race only to discover the colt was missing from the stables. Vega figured one of his men must have foolishly left the gate open, and had given him up for lost until he discovered the colt was back at El Caballo. Now, to be offered this deal was a stroke of good fortune.

“There is a condition, though,” Roberto continued. “We are doing this for one reason, pure and simple. We do not want you to have any claim over Storm. The colt will always bear the brand of your stables, but he is not your colt and you know it. He belongs to Isadora. And I am warning you now, if you ever touch him again, if you ever try to steal him or hurt him in any way, as a man of honour I shall be forced to deal with you myself. Am I making myself clear?”

Vega’s smile crumpled. “Miguel Vega agrees to your terms,” he spat back. “You have your deal, Roberto. And you have my horses. Leave now and let this be the end of all our dealings!”

“With pleasure,” Roberto grinned. He turned again to look at Miguel as they left the hacienda. “See you in another ten years, Miguel!”

There was much talk about the horses they had chosen on the way home. Issie was pleased with the young grey stallion that she was leading beside her. Roberto had picked Victorioso, of course, and the black stallion was certainly a great prize. Francoise had chosen a snow-white mare from the same bloodlines that Angel shared.

“She will be good bloodstock for the future Andalusian herd,” she explained.

Alfie had chosen a bay Lusitano foal.

“I think you chose him because he looks just like Storm,” Issie smiled.

“Storm is much more handsome,” Alfie said. “I can see why he means so much to you.”

“I want to thank you again for helping me to get him back,” Issie said.

Alfie grinned. “I had the easy job! Running a flag up a pole. I’m just glad that it worked out OK.” Then he added in a whisper to Issie, “And maybe one day you’ll explain to me exactly what really happened that day. How did you do it, Issie? All I know is that your colt came galloping in through the gates following this little grey horse. As soon as I saw them I raised the flag as you asked, and then when I turned round again — it was like the grey horse had just disappeared. You want to tell me what’s going on here?”

Issie smiled back at Alfie. “Maybe one day. Meanwhile, let’s just say that I owe you one.”